The Front
by JakeShades
Summary: A story about the soldiers on the frontline between the Reich and the Reds. Each chapter is a different story with different overlapping characters, each describing a different aspect of the war between the two Metro powers.
1. The Defence

The Front

The Defence

**A/N: I have chosen to write this story chiefly in the style of Metro 2033 (the game) so imagine the nazis and commies looking like they did in that game. Reviews and responds are much appreciated. **

Quiet, all quiet, nothing but the cool stale breeze from the metro air conditioning system and the crackling of the fire behind him. He was leaning of the scaffold next to the machinegun, smoking. A trolley had arrived from Tverskaya with more ammunition and Dima had gone to fetch more for the machinegun, he stayed behind to stand watch, not that it was really necessary, but it never hurts to take precautions. Only a few days ago a Red spec ops team had tried to sneak under the bridge to outflank them; one of the poor bastards had tripped over one of the tripwires down there and alerted everyone. He had spotted for their snipers on the bridge with the spotlight on his machinegun and even gunned a few of them down himself. Regardless, a couple of them made it through and tried to sneak through the pipes and up behind them, but it was a reason there was a guard post right by the exit of the pipe. To be spec ops, those guys were some mouthy motherfuckers, the guards heard them from miles away. They shot the first guys face off with a few shotgun pellets to the face and kept shooting down the pipe to flush them out; the snipers finished them off while they tried to flee. Just a single wounded guy was left in the pipe ones the smoke cleared; the guys from the guard post didn't see the point in dragging him out and send him to the stalag so they just slit his throat and threw him and his comrades out of the pipe.

"Hey Yasha, I'm back," the distinct sound of Dima's voice called behind him. He turned his head and saw Dima lugging a box of ammo for the machinegun behind him. Yasha threw the cigarette stump out into the wasteland under the bridge and went to help Dima. He and Dima dragged the box over to the fire so they could better inspect the content. Inside the box a long belt of greased up 12.7x108mm rounds laid nice and neatly in row.

"How much?" Yasha asked his companion.

"Two hundred rounds," Dima answered. Yasha nodded with satisfaction and the two lugged the box over to the machinegun. "Just what the doctor ordered, eh?" Dima asked jokingly as they sat back down by the fire; Yasha laughed in return and poured some tea water into the kettle hanging over the fire. In a few minutes the kettle wheezed out the familiar warming sound that anyone in the metro would appreciate. The tea was the good stuff from Exhibition, that little station was making quite the name for themselves with their tea.

Yasha saw a familiar figure walking towards them from the bridge. Yasha stat up strait and raised his head as the figure approached them.

"Hey guys," the man said.

"Oh hey there, Ivan didn't see you there," Dima who had had his back turned and thus hadn't noticed him coming was surprised at Ivan's appearance.

"Sit down, man," Yasha said friendly and Ivan planted his rear on one of the boxes around the fire. Yasha handed him a cup and filled it with tea. Ivan blew on the cup a bit before taking a sip; his entire body shrugged in delight as the tea went down the drain.

"This is some damn good tea," Ivan exclaimed after he was finished drinking, "Say, have you guys heard about the troubles at Exhibition?" Ivan asked the two others,

"Yeah, some mutant attack or something like that," Dima said unsure.

"Oh this is not some regular tunnel trash lurking in the tunnels, this is some real shit. They call them the dark ones, all of them over two meters tall, jet black skin and black eyes deeper than hell itself," Ivan told the story with a sinister voice and an even more sinister face clouded in shadows of the fire, "With bare paws they can rip grown men apart and their howls rings so loud the guys on guard go insane just by listening to it." Ivan eyed at Yasha towards Dima who was listening to the story so intently that he forgot to drink his tea. Yasha understood what he meant and slowly and quietly started to move towards Dima. "But that's not the scary part, oh no, the scary part is that they are some stealthy freaks, slowly moving closer, closer, ever closer until," Right then Yasha sprung the trap; he grabbed both of Dima's shoulders as hard and fast he could. Dima screamed in terror and fell off the box he was sitting on, Yasha and Ivan laughed hysterically at the terror in their friend's face.

"Oh you guys," Dima said a little bit angry but quickly calmed down and joined in on the laughter. Just then they heard a huge roar from the other side of the tunnel accompanied by heavy machinegun fire.

"Move it people! Everyone to their places!" the Hauptmann yelled from the main machinegun position over the tracks.

"A shit, here we go again," Ivan said while swinging the rest of the tea down his throat and picking up his sniper rifle. Yasha and Dima scrambled over to the machinegun and checked that all was ready. Yasha manned the gun while Dima supported him with a Kalash and helped him reload.

"Get ready everyone, here they come!" The Hauptmann yelled and ducked behind cover. The sandbag position in front was lined with riflemen, supported by three machinegun positions; one above the tracks and two to either sides of the bridge, the left position of which was manned by Yasha, Dima and Ivan. The lights illuminating their positions went off and spotlights, some mounted on the machineguns and some not, went on illuminating the path the commies had to go in order to get to them.

The ground started trembling from hundreds of boots trampling the ground ahead of them. Soon the first of them came into view charging blindly ahead like a rat swarm. It became very apparent that this wasn't just some probing action; this was a full flung assault.

"Hold your fire!" the Hauptmann yelled, "Hold your fire!" he kept yelling. Yasha and his comrades were getting nervous; the tidal wave of meat was bearing down on them very fast. "Open fire, cut the swine down!" he yelled when they were only ten meters from the forward position. The entire frontline lit up in a shower of muzzle flames and hot lead pouring into the wall of meat in front of them. Yasha aimed his gun into the center of mass and opened fire. The commies was shredded like cabbages as 12.7mm rounds tore through them from the front, left and right. The sandbag line opened fire with Kalashes and Uboinik shotguns. Most of the commies were armed with little other than Bastard carbines and double barreled shotguns and desperately fired back from what cover they could find.

Ivan was picking off commies in the two digits with his sniper rifle until he saw an officer taking cover behind a metro car on the bridge, shooting anyone who dared turn back with his Makarov pistol. Ivan put a bullet right above his left eye before he could shoot a poor soldier who had dropped his gun and was running back to the Red side. Ivan didn't bother shooting the poor bastard and concentrated on more pressing targets. The commies were almost breaking through the sandbag line, and the situation wasn't made any easier when Yasha's machinegun ran out of ammo.

"Shit, Dima help me reload!" Yasha yelled at Dima. Dima turned from laying fire down on the commies to help Yasha reload. As Yasha and Dima were connecting the new ammo box onto the machinegun, Dima suddenly screamed in pain. Yasha looked at his comrade squirming on the floor in pain. Yasha inspected him and saw a black pool forming on Dima's chest. "Man wounded!" Yasha yelled as he laid pressure on the wound.

"Yasha, get him back! I'll cover you!" Ivan yelled over the shooting and screaming. Yasha picked Dima up over his shoulders and started running to the back. Bullets flew past him and landed next to him causing chips of concrete to hit his legs. Yasha ran under the elevated machinegun position and dropped Dima on the ground behind cover. The Hauptmann was running down the stairs with a wounded man himself and placed him next to Dima.

"Those commies are going to break through if we don't do something blin!" Yasha said to the Hauptmann.

"We are, we're bringing in Kleine Karl," The Hauptmann answered. Right then a droning trailer horn could be heard in the depths of the tunnel. Out of the darkness a bright spotlight poured through and a lumbering behemoth came to view. Reinforcements moving down the tracks towards the front stopped and cheered as the Panzer rolled by. A loudspeaker on the Panzer started blaring out the Reich's marching tune as it lumbered up towards the sandbag line.

"Hail Reich!" the soldiers started chanting as the Panzer fired explosive rounds at the commies. Yasha was running up to the sandbags with the reinforcements armed with an Uboinik and threw himself down behind the sandbags. The commie assault started to crumble under the weight of Kleiner Karl's fire. The Hauptmann stood on top of the machinegun position over the tracks with a megaphone and started talking through it,

"Soldiers of the Red Army, you are throwing your lives away for nothing! Look at how many of your comrades have fallen to the might of the Reich! Your struggle is useless and your deaths are in vain! Your leaders, who are concerned with nothing other than keeping their power, despise you and hate you; they are throwing your life away so they don't have to feed you! Comrades, join us! The army of the Reich is the most professional fighting force in the entire metro! We don't throw our soldiers away in greedy scrambles for power! Together we will avenge our fallen comrades and show that cowardly liar Moskvin who really holds the stick!" The Hauptmann's speech was almost drowned by the explosions from the Panzer and the gut wrenching screams from dying commies.

In the end all the commies were either dead or running back to their positions; the day belonged to the Reich… again. The victory had not come without a price though; twenty three soldiers of the Reich were dead or wounded, among them Dima. The wounded were taken to a field hospital behind the frontline on a trolley; the dead were ceremonially cremated on the front with full military honors.

Several men had been sent into the no man's land to throw the dead commies off the bridge so they wouldn't obstruct the way. The ones who weren't too badly wounded was sent behind the lines to be "reeducated" while the ones too heavily wounded were gutted with bayonets and thrown off the bridge with the rest. Right behind the lines the crew of Kleiner Karl was celebrating with the some of the regular soldiers. Laughing and joking went back and forth along with the vodka bottles.

Yasha however walked back to his machinegun position where he found Ivan covering the guys in the no man's land. Yasha walked past him and checked that the machinegun was all in one piece.

"How's Dima?" Ivan asked while still looking through his sniper scope,

"He'll make it," Yasha answered while checking the gun. After finishing checking the gun, Yasha sat down by the fire; Ivan joined him once the last soldier was out of the no man's land. Ivan sat down on his box and produced a field canteen filled with vodka. He poured some into a cup and handed it Yasha.

"Hail Reich," he said unenthusiastically and raised the canteen.

"Hail Reich," Yasha said in a similar fashion before downing the strong beverage down his throat.


	2. The Raid

The Raid

Ivan was sitting at the back of the cart; sitting with the other guys didn't really interest him now. The guys ahead of him in the cart was talking about a massacre that they had taken part in at some backwater station down the line. One of the guys described with pride how he had gunned down several "inferior" women and children as they tried to run for the tunnels. Listening to it had made him sick so he had gone to the back to check his gun, and it was a nice gun too; brand new, recently acquired from a Red spec ops guy that had popped his head out at the wrong moment. The gun was one of those rear VSV rifles, fitted with a long silencer, a collapsible stock and a medium range scope. The rifle was originally chambered for subsonic 9x39mm rounds but it had been modified to accept the standard, and far more common, 5.45 caliber rounds, and it seemed to be match made in heaven. The rifle was capable at delivering deadly accurate fire down at anyone unfortunate enough to be down the range. He had tested it out back at the frontline and it amazed him how great the rifle handled; he had popped three of the commies in the head before they even noticed someone was shooting at them. If he ever had to go on a stealth mission behind enemy lines, he would have taken this gun over any other.

One of the guys a bit ahead on the cart stood up and walked over to him. These guys were from the single most ruthless unit in all Reich; the shock troopers. While they had an impressive record of success they weren't very popular among the regular guys on the frontline. In fact, while Führer called them "the finest and most professional soldiers in all metro," the regular guys had their own moniker for them; professional assholes.

"Hey, you're Ivan right, the sniper that was assigned with us?" the trooper asked Ivan who just lifted his eyes to look at him for a moment before continuing checking his rifle, "Look man, I know you guys on the front don't have much good to say to us but remember that we're counting you to do this, so you get what to do?" Ivan finally pulled back the charging handle and lifted his head to speak,

"I was there during the briefing, man, I know what to do," Ivan said with mild annoyance in his voice.

"Alright man. By the way, I'm Diesel and that big dude over there's Hans," he was pointing at one of the brutes over at the main group. The guy was really big, huge even; he was wearing some heavy body armor and was toting a big machinegun with a long ammo belt, "He's our heavy weapons specialist. The other guys are Vischnya, Vena, Volodya, Kozoy, Kolya, Gustav, Gregory…" Diesel's voice faded away between the harmonious humming of the engine and the rhythmic thuds from the wheels rolling on the tracks. There were twenty four guys on this mission, including the crew of the panzer at the head. Ten guys were from the shock troopers and the rest were there to lug the heavy equipment they were going to get, save from Ivan who was to provide sniper cover.

As they rolled through the dark cramped tunnel Ivan thought with amazement how the Reds had seemingly overlooked it. The service tunnel was discovered just south of Mayakovskaya and winded all the way down to Kuznetsky Most. The scouts had checked the tunnel in its entirety and the only thing inhabiting it was some bothersome Nosalises and the odd Lurker nest here and there. The Nosalises didn't pose much challenge when a heavily armed convoy rolled quickly down the line. The mission was to strike Kuznetsky Most from the rear, grab as many weapons, ammo, gear and equipment as they could, then get the hell out of there.

They exited the tunnel through a little known passage to the south of Kuznetsky Most. The panzer rolled out first, towing the carts behind it.

"Final check, people!" the Hauptsturmführer yelled. Every man checked and readied their gear; some banging their magazines against their helmets to check the content.

"We rolling then, Herr Hauptsturmführer?" the commander of the Panzer asked, puffing his cigarette a few last times,

"Roger that," the Hauptsturmführer said. The commander flipped the cigarette out of his hand and closed the hatch of the panzer and fired up the engine to full for extra power for the short final stretch. Accelerating rapidly down the line towards Kuznetsky Most, Ivan ducked behind the armored railing for cover. The outer barricade of Kuznetsky Most came into view; the panzer started honking its trailer horn as it thundered down the track.

"Here comes the heavy spoil liner!" Diesel shouted and laughed as the giant steel behemoth bore down on the unfortunate defenders. Some of the defenders tried to desperately shoot the panzer; other threw themselves to the side. The panzer broke through the barricade as if it wasn't even there; scrap metal and body parts flew past the soldiers on the carts. Ivan ducked down and held his rifle tightly against his chest as the convoy smashed through the barricade and into the station.

"Go, go, go!" the Hauptsturmführer ordered and the soldiers scrambled from the carts and onto the platform. Ivan took cover behind a pillar as small arms fire started ringing through the air. The shock troopers spread out across the platform and gunned down anyone within view; armed or unarmed. Ivan saw a suitable sniping position at the end of the platform, right above the entrance to the armory. The regular soldiers were breaking in to the armory to steal as much they could, the shock troopers were busy fending off the Red security forces further ahead. Ivan scrambled for the sniping position, ran up the makeshift stairs to it and took cover behind a concrete pillar. From there he had an excellent view of the entire middle section. The commie security forces had taken cover near one of the crossings and reinforcements were pouring through from the northern tunnel. Ivan picked out three commies that were running for cover. First shot fired; hit the first guy in the head. Second shot fired; upper body shot, thank god for unarmored commies. Third shot fired; damned, missed the guy by a hair. No worries though, he still had seventeen shots left.

The shock troopers were pushing up now; moving swiftly from cover to cover. The machine gunner Hans though, was very fond of casually walking from cover to cover while firing his machinegun from the hip full auto. The terrified commies cowered behind the pillars as brick and concrete chips flew everywhere. From that angle it was easy; Ivan fired his rifle semi-auto at the visible commies. One after one they fell; headshot, headshot, bodyshot, headshot.

The guys in the armory were lugging heavy crates from the armory over to the carts. After a few loads it looked like it was getting a bit too hot. The commies were pushing through the center in numbers too big to contain. One of the shock troopers was shot several times as they were pulling back; one of his comrades dragged him backward while shooting his pistol at the commies. Ivan provided sniper cover for the shock troopers as they pulled back to the carts. The shots were landing close to Ivan now and he decided it was best to pull back now. Ivan ran down the stairs and met the last two guys hoofing a crate with them to the carts.

"Let's get the hell out of here, guys!" Ivan said as he met them. Suddenly a shot rang and one of the guys fell dead over. A wounded officer sitting in a corner bleeding and toting a revolver fired at them. Ivan and the other soldier fired their guns full auto at him; the bullets hammered through his body, the officer rippled from side to side as the bullets hit him until he bowed his head, dead. Ivan threw the dead guy's body over his shoulder while using his free arm to help the other guy drag the crate to the carts; no one gets left behind, not even bodies.

By the carts, the panzer and the shock troopers were covering the rest of the guys as they loaded up the carts. Ivan threw the dead guy's corpse onto the cart and started to help load it with crates. From the other entry tunnel a trolley armed with a heavy machine gun was rolling in, and no one had seemed to have noticed it so Ivan scrambled between the crates on the carts while making his way towards the panzer.

"Target twelve o'clock!" he yelled down the hatch of the panzer after jumping over the last cart.

"Got 'em," the commander said and turned the turret forty degrees to hit the trolley. A single explosive round from the panzer was enough to reduce it to just the chassis.

Everything was loaded and everyone was aboard so the panzer fired up its engine and started backing up. An auxiliary engine on the cart to the rear was fired up as well to make the retreat go faster. At first it went painfully slow; small arms fire from the platform dinged against the armor plating on the side of the carts and bullets flew overhead. The soldiers on the carts popped out to shoot at the commies taking cover behind the pillars, and the panzer fired at them with explosive shells, careful not to hit the pillars themselves so the entire roof wouldn't fall down on them. With the combined power of the panzer and the cart engine, the caravan started to pick up the pace and was soon in the tunnels.

Driving past the shattered defenses that were crushed under the weight of the panzer in rapid acceleration; the defenders back at the station tried to go after in motorized trolleys armed with machineguns, but the panzer easily annihilated any attempts at pursuit. Further down the line the caravan reached the entrance to the service tunnel. The panzer backed up a bit so it could drive in first and use the superior forward traverse speed of the panzer to drag the caravan.

After safely making it inside the tunnel, the airlock gate was shut behind them and with it the Red Line. Ivan took off his helmet and rested his head against the side of the cart. It was the same look in everybody's faces; exhaustion, but victorious. The two men that they had lost lied dead on stretchers on top of some crates they had taken. The fallen shock trooper was the guy Diesel had called Vena; three bullet holes were visible through the blood stained uniform. The regular soldier that had been shot in the back by the commie officer was called Boris. The bullet had gone straight through his back and hit his heart, killing him instantly. One of his friends, the guy who had lugged the crate with him before he got killed, was sitting next to his corpse with a sad look on his face while drinking of a canteen of vodka. Diesel was sitting next the Vena's corpse with a forced blank expression on his face. He glanced at Ivan for a moment before going back to stare at his fallen comrade's corpse.

One of the soldiers found a guitar laying in one of the crates and started tuning it. Before long he had finished tuning it, he played a slow melancholy song. The haunting and mesmerizing tones brought some peace of mind to the silent band of soldiers on the carts. Ivan closed his eyes; it was still a few hours to Chekhovskaya.


	3. Reich

The Front

Reich

Dima woke up with a headache; proper anesthesia was apparently frowned upon by the good doctors of the Fourth Reich. He remembered the cart, he remembered driving at fast speed down the line, he remembered white coated men rolling him into a plastic cage or something, and of course the excruciating pain of having a bullet in the chest. There was one piece that was missing though, one important little detail to tie it all up… oh yeah; a guy showing up with a wooden hammer, after that it was all dark. He looked around trying to get a beat on his surroundings. He was lying on a bed, a somewhat comfortable bed. To his left and right there were more beds with more guys looking a bit shot up; some had bandages around their head, some around their arms and torsos. Some were sleeping, some sitting up reading and others talking with their neighbor.

"Ah, you're awake at last I see," a voice came from the foot of the bed. Dima tried to straighten up in bed but an excruciating pain in his chest overtook him and he fell back down into the soft embrace of the matrass.

"I apologize, sir, but I seem to be unable to straighten up," Dima said as formally as he could; one should never take chances when one doesn't know who they're talking to.

"It's quite alright, and you don't have to call me sir," the man walked over to the front of the bed and sat down on a stool next to it. Dima saw now that the person that was talking to him was a doctor; the white coat and friendly smile gave him away immediately. The doctor sat down and looked down and a notepad while producing a pencil.

"So, tell me your name. I'm sorry to ask but we got fourteen wounded in last night and we never had a chance to checked the names," Dima was slightly puzzled; isn't this why they had dog tags in the first place.

"Corporal Dmitri Sergeyevich Pulkov," Dima said obediently. The doctor started to check off and scribble down something on the notepad.

"Yes, we had to pull a bullet out of your chest last night, I operated on you personally. Luckily the bullet didn't hit any vital organs, but it bore its way into one of your ribs however," the doctor pointed at the bandages on Dima's chest, "We got it out with little problem but we had to, ehm, calm you down a bit… you wouldn't stop squirming you see," Dima touched by the sensitive swelling on his forehead.

"Well, sore ribs and a slight concussion are better than being dead, eh?" Dima chuckled; the doctor chuckled a bit too by the remark.

"We just have to go through some tests before we can let you go," the doctor scribbled down some last things on the notepad before standing up.

"Doctor wait, where are we anyway?" Dima asked as the doctor started walking; the doctor turned his head back towards Dima,

"Where else, Pushkinskaya." he said, looked back down on his notepad and walked off.

Pushkinskaya was medical and educational center of the Fourth Reich. Here the children of the Reich learned to read and write, learned the philosophy of the Reich and learned to respect authority and never question the Führer. It was also here that the sick and wounded were treated. Due to the relative small population of the Reich the hospital was top notch. It was all clean and had a staff of dedicated and professional doctors and nurses. The hospital really reflected on the general state of the Fourth Reich; thoroughly professional and clean of vermin. Pushkinskaya was also considered the safest of the stations; down the line to the south was the passive power of Polis. Polis and the Reich were in an unofficial oral agreement; Reich didn't meddle with Polis' business and Polis didn't meddle with Reich's business. To the west was the Reich controlled station Barrikadnaya. The formerly independent station had been taken by Reich just a few months ago. The capture had provoked Hanza's response but an agreement was reached and Hanza got themselves a new trading partner in place of the former. An incursion from the north had to go through Chekhovskaya or Tverskaya, and that was a task easier said than done.

Dima was stuck to the hospital bed for a couple of days though. The doctor had "recommended" him staying at least a few days and let the wound heal a bit before throwing himself back into fire. Despite some protests, Dima eventually conceded.

* * *

"So Dima, how did you get wounded?" Mikhail Vasilyevich asked; they were sitting in a small circle of wounded personnel in the sleeping hall. Dima leaned back against the wall nonchalantly before answering,

"Ah, you know, the commies attacked as usual. It was a big wave though; at least a hundred guys just running straight at us. I was sitting with my guys Yasha and Ivan when the attack started. Yasha is a machine gunner, and I was there to help him reload, clear jams, you know, support the guy. So when the attack started we were gunning those fools down in heaps; Yasha on his machinegun, Ivan with his sniper rifle and of course me with my Kalash. Yasha went out of ammo so I had to help him reload. While we were reloading some lucky bastard hit me in the chest; so Yasha carried me back behind the lined an suddenly I was here,"

"That's quite a story," one of the guys call Pyotr said.

Oh come on, Pyotr Alexeivich, tell us how you ended up here," Mikhail Vasilyevich said laughing.

"Ah come on, Mikhail Vasilyevich, I really don't want to…" Pyotr tried to reason with Mikhail but there was no stopping him.

"No go on now, tell him," Mikhail almost yelled. Pyotr sighed and opened his mouth again.

"So we were at Tverskaya, at the shooting range. They'd gotten a new set of pistols and since we were off duty anyway we were offered to test them out. So we went, figured it was good with some extra practice before we went back to the frontline. So we stayed a while shooting; everything was going smoothly until my gun jammed, and while I was clearing the jam I just happened to be pointing the gun downwards and…" more he couldn't say before Mikhail Vasilyevich cut him off,

"The fool shot himself in the leg!" Mikhail yelled laughing and the entire circle started laughing hysterically; one of the guys laughed so hard he fell off the box he was sitting on and Dima's chest pains caught up with him and he started coughing uncontrollably. Alex, the guy to the left of Dima dunked him in the back to choke the choughs.

"Ah fuck off, Micha. Say, why are you here?" Pyotr snapped at Mikhail,

"Easy, I blew my finger off," Mikhail answered nonchalantly,

"And how did you manage that?" Pyotr pressed on; the anger in his voice was very evident,

"Some unstable explosives exploded in my hands," Mikhail said just as relaxed as before,

"Why? Did it just explode by itself?" Pyotr almost boiled over in frustration,

"I did say it was unstable, right? Yes I did, and when it's unstable it sometimes go boom," Mikhail raised his left hand, "At least now I don't have to get married now," Mikhail said while flipping Pyotr off with the stump of his ring finger. The entire assembly started laughing again; in the end even Pyotr laughed.

"Dmitri Pulkov?" a female voice came down the hall,

"Yeah?" Dima answered, choking the laughter in his throat,

"You are being signed out,"

"Well guys, I guess this is goodbye," Dima said as he stood up and walked away,

"Look after yourself, Dima, save some commies for us, eh?" Mikhail said laughing after Dima. Dima walked over to the nurse who called him. He knew her and she knew him.

"So you're going out there again, Dmitri?" she asked, looking at him exasperated. Dima looked her straight into her bright blue eyes,

"Yes I am, Natasha," he said with a smile

"Well go on then," she stepped aside and pointed at the doctor's office in that typical daring way of a woman. He grabbed her hands. She struggled for a bit but she quickly relented and locked herself in his embrace,

"Look, Sasha, I will be back soon. We'll get married, we'll start a family, I will devote my every breath to you and you alone," Dima held her in a tender embrace; she rested her head against his chest. He ignored the pain because this felt so much better. Natasha looked up at him with tears in her eyes, then buried her face back into his chest again,

"Sometimes I wish you were dead so I could stop thinking about you," she said sobbing. Dima gently grabbed her chin and lifted her head so he could look into her eyes. He smiled.

"I promise," he said and kissed her long and passionately. After the kiss he let go of her. She looked at him and couldn't repress a smile,

"Go on then," she repeated herself from earlier. Dima started walking towards the doctor's office, "I won't wait for you forever, Dmitri Sergeyevich." She yelled as he went.

After getting through a last check he was free to go. He left the hospital reunited with his uniform; the all black uniform of the veterans of the front. The veterans were separated from the rookies at home by their uniform; a black sweater, black cargo pants, boots and black berets when not wearing the helmet. The rookies wore a blue sweater instead and were forbidden to don a beret until they had served on the frontline or any other theater of war.

Dima walked onto the main platform of Pushkinskaya. The myriad of children being lectured by a strict female teacher and a more lighthearted veteran soldier with a scar crossing his face, took up most of the initial space near the hospital. The veteran soldier pointed at Dima and told the children that he was a hero of the Fourth Reich. The children saluted Dima as he walked past and Dima gave a friendly salute back. Dima kept walking down the platform while passing more children and some wounded men who had gotten themselves out of the hospital to get something other than the awful hospital food. Dima waved at them as he passed by them before moving on to the interchange. What was so great about the main stations of Reich was that they were interconnected and one could actually walk between each station without entering the tunnels.

Dima was now heading to Chekhovskaya; the station responsible for industrial production. There was a factory there where Dima's father worked as a foreman; besides being a soldier, Dima's secondary profession was metalwork. At the factory important industrial products were made, amongst others; railcars, limited weapons production and ammunition. Perhaps most noticeably it was here that the fearsome Panzers were made. It was also a prison or stalag as they called it, for mutants, non-Russians and criminals in general. There was also a power plant here driven by said prisoners that provided all of the stations with electricity. It was this station that Dima called home.

Over on either side of the platform the living quarters were laid out. The tracks were virtually useless anyway so the housing was built on top of them. Here many small flats built out of wood were lining the wall. Dima stopped by a familiar door and knocked. A sturdy old man with gray hair and sunken eyes opened the door, and a smile took his entire face in joy.

"Hey, papa," Dima said while smiling.

"Dmitri, my boy," his father said and embraced him. The years had not been kind to his fifty five year old frame but he was still taller, ticker and more muscular than Dima could ever hope to achieve. "Olga, look who is home," his father said and before he knew Dima's mother was in the door,

"Oh Dimusha, it is so good that you are home alive and well," his mother embraced him as well. She was smaller than both Dima and his father but she was quick on her feet nonetheless. Before he knew it, Dima had been ushered into the flat by his mother while she bombarded him with questions. If the commies were as many and as persistent as Olga Pulkov's questions then the Reich had already lost. "I heard you got wounded Dimusha, I stood outside the hospital but they wouldn't let me in. Oh Dimusha are you okay, no of course you're not. I know mama's special mushroom soup will make it all better. How are you Dimusha? How did you get wounded?" It was no stopping her once she started, that was a fact Dima and his father had accepted a long time ago.

"I'm alright mama but your mushroom soup will probably make it even better," Dima knew exactly how to shut his mother up; make her cook something or do something that involved a lot of attention. Thankfully Olga started to make the soup. It gave Dima and his father some time to talk. They were both sitting down at the table on the side of the room. The flat had little in the way of space; it was literally just the table, a bunk bed and the stove.

"So my boy, how are things," Sergey asked when they sat down,

"Oh you know papa; killing commies, getting wounded, coming back here eating your food before heading back to the front to do it all again," Dima said jokingly. Sergey laughed at his son's witty remark, "Oh one interesting thing happened today; I met Natasha," Dima immediately regretted saying it because his mother was all over him now,

"What?! Really?! You know boy you have to make an honest woman out of her. You can't keep playing her around your finger like," Dima's frustration boiled over now,

"It's not my finger I'm playing her around, mama," he remarked. His father laughed, but his mother only looked at him with disgust,

"Pff, men," she said and went back to her cooking,

"No but seriously, mama, I will marry her. I have promised her," Dima felt a bit guilty for the remark and tried to brighten the mood a bit,

"You have to be serious about this, Dimusha. You must be honest to a woman. Look at me, boy. Are you serious about this," Dima looked straight into his mother's eyes,

"I am," he said with a voice full of honesty and good intentions,

"Good, now let's eat." His mother said. The delicious smell of the mushroom soup filled the room. As they sat there eating, conversation went back and forth between all manner of daily trinkets and doings. Dima and Sergey amongst others discussed a new and allegedly better design of the Panzer and some new techniques for metallurgy. After dinner Dima had to go to Tverskaya to pick up his gear and head back to the frontline. He said goodbye to his mother and father and off he went again. Dima had always been a quick and nimble man, never staying at one place for a long time.

Dima left Chekhovskaya and headed for Tverskaya. Tverskaya was the de facto capital of the Fourth Reich. All the military, bureaucratic and police affairs were controlled from there. It was here that all the soldiers of the Reich were trained and it was here that the Führer resided. There was always something going on in Tverskaya; executions, redirecting of supplies and wounded and the Führer's rallies. Thankfully, the Führer didn't hold a speech now or else it would be impossible to move around the station.

Dima headed to the armory to retrieve his gear. After giving the quartermaster the serial number of his gear he was given it back. His gear was relatively standard for a rifleman. He was fitted with a long black bulletproof vest, his stahlhelmet with the standard armored gasmask, a reserve gasmask, ammunition resupply and of course his weapons; his Kalash, his pistol, grenades and throwing knives. Now he was now ready for combat. He left the armory, thanking the quartermaster before leaving, and headed for the departure platform for the frontline.

"Hey, Dmitri Sergeyevich, is that you?" a familiar voice came from the train on the platform. He now saw a soldier waving at him from the train,"

"Ivan Kirillovich, is that you?" he yelled back as he ran towards the train. When he got to the train Ivan helped him up and he took a seat across form him,

"We're in a hurry now, Dima. Those fucking commies are going at it again," Ivan said worryingly,

Shit, we got to get back there. We can't possibly let Yasha steal all the fun can we?" Dima said with a smile,

"I admire your optimism, man, but those reds are coming in their hundreds now," Ivan said to silence Dima's laughter,

"Shit, I think we're going to need some Panzers for this, man," Dima said seriously,

"They're working on it, we just need to plug the hole first." The officers around the platform ordered everyone aboard. Dozens of soldiers entered the train. When it was all full and ready to go, the officers jumped aboard and the train started rolling down the tracks rapidly towards the frontline. Before the train left the station Dima saw a familiar frame standing on the platform; it was Natasha. She looked at him with her usually worried eyes. He looked back but he didn't smile this time; his face was just as worried as hers. They kept staring at each other even when the train started leaving the station. Their only thing that could separate their common gaze was the oncoming tunnel. Before the train disappeared into the tunnel, he yelled something that was barely audible with all the noise. His voice rang towards her like an unstoppable whirlwind. Even at this range she heard it clearly. In his untypical voice of pure honesty she could clearly hear two words: "I promise."


End file.
